


If this was unavoidable, it wasn’t for lack of a portent

by Cryptographic_Delurk



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Nebilim Sidequest, Torture & Interrogation, Unrequited Love, courtesy of Jade, that awkward thing where all your friends are the friends and family of your abuser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 20:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15155012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryptographic_Delurk/pseuds/Cryptographic_Delurk
Summary: Peony almost had to be stopped from rolling his eyes. “Yeah really, Saphir.I’mthe one that’s stuck in the past.”





	If this was unavoidable, it wasn’t for lack of a portent

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place after the game, but before the epilogue.
> 
> Ah, this was not the Tales of the Abyss fanfic I wanted to write, but it’s what I’ve got for now. I can’t say it’s the most nuanced: it’s rather pro-Dist, in spite of all his reckless endangerment of the lives of others. And it’s not a very pretty picture of the colonel, although I am rather fond of him.
> 
> In any case, if it suits, please Read & Relax.

“Well, aren’t you a sweetheart? Who’s a good boy? Is it you? _Saphir_?”

Dist actually thinks Peony is talking to him for a moment, before he looks over and sees Peony cuddling the Rappig.

Peony catches him watching and reclines back in his armchair, clutching Rappig Saphir to his chest. He winks at Dist, and blows a kiss. And Dist is too worn to rage and screech, even though he knows Peony does it specifically to mock him.

Between his various captors, Peony had originally been the more conservative in his concerns of allowing Dist too much freedom and space. But his convictions had whittled and eroded at a rate befitting someone of his flimsy mental constitution. Compared to Jade, who had remained firm as Peony moved past him.

 _Peony had been the one that saved him._ Dist only wishes he had more pride than to admit it.

The interrogations had turned brutal. Not because of recalcitrance, Dist had been only too happy to share everything he knew and had studied with Jade, imagining it as a kind of return to when they worked together on fomicry research. But he’d run out of things to share before Jade had run out of things he wanted to know.

It had been bad after that. Jade had kicked him in the gut. Not too hard, but repeatedly. Treading methodically over the same places he’d attacked before, so that the bruises never had time to heal. And when he’d get tired of that, he’d slap Dist across the face, or set the guards upon him with a lash. And then he’d become either frustrated or bored, and leave for a week before returning to pry open old wounds and start all over. Jade had never been squeamish about using the weapons at his disposal, and he wielded disinterest and neglect as easily and effectively as any physical means of torture.

His face was impassive, but the content of his questions betrayed a certain amount of emotion. He was frustrated by the disappearance of the Replica fon Fabre. He was frustrated by his own ineffectiveness.

Or at least that’s what Dist had read into it. After he’d run out of energy to whine and cry and beg with, and started responding to pain and questioning with only his thoughts and the quiet whimper and sniffle of his runny nose.

And then Peony had walked into the questioning room and flipped his hand.

“That’s enough, Jade,” Peony placated softly. “He doesn’t know anything more. You’ve told me as much.”

Jade pursed his lips and held his arms firmly behind his back. The red eyes stared off past Dist. Past _Saphir_. Maybe past Professor Nebilim. And maybe even the Replica fon Fabre as well.

“Anyhow-” Peony shrugged with an apologetic smile. “I won’t allow this kind of abuse to take place in my house.”

Jade paused a moment.

“I wasn’t aware that this was your house, Emperor.”

Peony, as if waiting for Jade to say this, flipped a scroll open in his hand.

“It’s not. But if you see here on this mandate, Saphir has been placed under house arrest in the custody of one Peony Upala Malkuth IX. So I’ll be taking him home to the palace with me.” Peony smiled. “Don’t stand in the way of progress, Jade.”

There was something ridiculous about Peony hiding behind a mandate that he had drawn up and signed himself. But Jade seemed to defer to it anyhow. He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he glanced between Dist, and Peony, and the door behind him.

There was something on his face like disgust – with Dist, with Peony, with the situation, or with himself, Dist didn’t know – as Jade spun on his heel and walked away. But Dist had been struck by how beautiful and handsome and brilliant he was in that moment – with his broad shoulders and sharp features and flowing hair. But Jade had always been those things.

He doesn’t remember what Peony looked like just then. It seemed worlds away and worlds beneath him. Peony and his escorts had taken him to the palace, and the next time Dist remembered looking and seeing, was when Peony waggled a finger at him and winked.

“Ah, well, I know _your_ people can’t stand to be so messy and unfashionable. I’m having the maids bathe and dress you.”

He was wrong, but Dist didn’t have the energy or peace of mind to argue with him. Yes, Dist liked well-tailored suits and pink accessorises and lipstick. But he was also the one who would get caught up in research. He would sleep at his laboratory workbench for days, without brushing his hair or changing his clothes. Jade had always been the fastidious one between them. He would clean and shave and dress in uniforms freshly ironed and pressed – a precision that befitted someone so militant. Jade would walk into the lab, not a cuticle out of place, ruffle Saphir’s messy hair, and say, with the affection one might bestow on a child or pet, that Saphir was adorably dishevelled.

The maids had bathed him and dressed him, and painted his nails a pearly pink. Dist hadn’t seen them since, and had come to the conclusion that Peony had called them in specifically to care for him at his worst. They had seen him bruised and ragged out coming of his imprisonment, and then been dismissed back to their normal posts, where they could not look at him with cold, knowing eyes. It was a discretion and consideration that Dist was not prepared to be thankful for.

Dist had also not seen Jade since. He originally thought that Peony might have been playing the good cop to Jade’s bad cop. _An incredibly foolish plan_ , Dist scoffed, _considering Jade at his cruellest could endear him far more effectively than Peony at his kindest_. But it soon became clear that Peony was simply keeping them apart from one another. Which is what Peony had always done – gotten between their storge, philia, eros, and agape, all. And ruined Dist’s life in the process.

Except Dist couldn’t even feel properly angry at Peony for it this time. Oh, he _was_ angry at Peony. But he was also angry at Jade for betraying his expectations. Not only the first set of expectations that had been betrayed when the Professor’s Lab had exploded. Nor the second that had come when Jade banned the use of fomicry to produce living organisms. But also in the third set: the expectations that Dist had piled high on top of each other, one by one, during his time alone in Daath. He had built an impossible set of wishes, imagining the joy and rebirth that would occur when he and Jade were reunited. And he was angry at himself for building this tower, and angry at Jade for levelling it to dust, and angry at himself for being angry at Jade, and then angry at Peony for creating this situation where he was angry with Jade, and then angry that he was angry with Peony instead of letting himself be angry with Jade. And it was very tiring. Almost as tiring as being abandoned of all hope and desire.

“Aww, Nephry loves you~” Peony coos. “And Aslan too. Lucky~”

The Rappigs squeal and Dist curls up in his chair, pulling his feet up so the Rappigs can’t nuzzle against them. (It doesn’t work, they set their hooves on the edge of the seat and press their noses against Dist’s dress shoes.)

“This place is a pigsty,” Dist says.

“You’re not the first to notice,” Peony laughs. “Off your game, Saphir. Usually you’re more insightful than that.”

Dist considers kicking the Nephry pig away. He’s done worse experimenting on Cheagles, to say nothing of experiments done on humans. But, even though he knows this Rappig bears no connection or resemblance to the real Nephry Balfour, he somehow feels bad at the thought of kicking her porcine effigy anyhow.

Nephry had always been kind to him, even when Jade and Peony had terrorised him. He was the only one of them who had attended her wedding. He’d offered her a handkerchief and held her hand and not been foolish enough to ask why she was crying.

Dist curses himself for being weak-willed and useless, and is about to double down and kick the Rappig as an expression of his frustration. (Plus, a bonus, it would upset Peony.) But Rappig Nephry had grown bored with Dist’s shoes and moved along away from his chair, taking Rappig Aslan with her. And Dist is saved from further moral turmoil brought on by the presence of farm animals.

He turns on Peony instead.

“I could kill you, imbecile. You know that?”

“Contemplating regicide?” Peony cuddles a Rappig. “My! Your interests have grown so varied, Saphir.”

Dist boils. He hates how Peony says his old name, like they’re ten years old in Ketterburg and nothing had changed in the twenty-five years that has elapsed since.

Peony continues. “Even assuming you can kill me, I am not entirely without combat skill and instinct, I-”

For a second Dist feels a strange surge of panic. He’s not entirely sure what he’s capable of in of himself. Peony has at least twenty kilos on him. Dist imagines a poorly conceived murder plot going wrong – how Peony would tackle him and crush his ribcage, and the burst of pain and suffocation and death that would result.

“No.” Peony frowns, interrupting himself. “I’m sure you could engineer a murder machine. Even without proper materials, you could probably build a robot entirely out of cutlery and furniture if you wanted to. You’re certainly brilliant enough… You could kill me.”

Dist feels himself relax in his chair. He lets his loose knees knock together. He’d forgotten he was a genius for a minute, and Peony’s reassurance calms him.

“But then what would you do?” Peony asks. “Even as it is, you’re not welcome in Kimlasca-Lanvaldear. Your friend Anise Tatlin is climbing the ranks in Daath. But until she reaches her ambition of becoming Fon Master, the Order is full of her superiors – none of which will take kindly to you. And if you kill me, even Nephry won’t welcome you back to Keterburg. You’ll be a man on the run from everyone.”

It’s somehow fortifying that Peony thinks him clear-headed enough to consider these ramifications, and not just kill him in an emotional outburst.

“I could kill you, and then kill myself,” Dist reasons.

“Jade told me you tried that at the Tower of Rem and failed.” Peony sounds bored, or maybe he’s only tired. “Even if you kill me, you’ll find yourself a much hardier and more resilient target, Saphir. You should appreciate your natural talents a bit more.”

 _You always were smarter than him,_ Peony had chuckled. _You may be nearly matched on all that scientist shit. But you know what an emotion is, at least. You can tell how other people feel. You know what it’s like to fall in-_

Dist pushes this out of his mind and rather forcefully reminds himself of what Jade had affectionately (or not) coined _The Cockroach Effect_. A person who got back on their feet quicker was only assuring that they were ready to be knocked back down again sooner. Some talent.

Well, Dist isn’t getting back up this time. His bruises and broken bones are healing. He’s putting on weight, and is losing the pallor in his skin. He’s eating, sleeping, reading. But he isn’t going to get back up again. Because he’s been staying at Peony’s palace for about two months – having meals and books delivered to his room. (A room he only leaves every other evening, when he’s forced to come entertain Peony and his Rappigs.) And Dist hears the servants talk, so he knows that Jade is still skulking around the palace, seeing to his official business as always. And, in spite of all of Peony’s efforts to the contrary, hell and high water could not have kept Dist from Jade. If he hadn’t, on some deep visceral level, not-wanted to seek Jade out.

And, at first, this had been met with some amount of resistance. He _should_ want to see Jade. But, as he continues to eat and sleep and read and grow weaker (or stronger?) he begins to doubt why he should want to? There’s no cache of experiments to salvage any of this. There’s no replica of Professor Nebilim to fall back on. There is, really, not a word he can offer to Jade, or that Jade can offer to him.

He looks at Peony, whose generosity has changed him. Looks at him pick up the Rappigs and coo at the names on their collars. And he feels a surge of repulsion and disgust.

“Oh! Get over it!” Dist spits. His eyes swim for Rappig Nephry, for Jade, for the rest of them – Aslan, Gelda, Luke, Saphir – all dead. “Playing house with a bunch of pigs in an empty palace! It’s gone! They’re gone! You know what your problem is? You’re stuck in the past!”

Peony’s smile does break. He’s holding Luke pig up, and lowers him gently to hug against his chest. He almost has to be stopped from rolling his eyes.

“Yeah really, Saphir. _I’m_ the one that’s stuck in the past.”

Saphir can divert his attention no longer.

 _You know… He doesn’t love you_ , Peony had said.

Saphir had been taken aback. He had stood there in his lab coat, in the columned halls of Malkuth’s Military Academy. It seemed like every muscle in his body had gone slack.

And then Saphir’s face had flushed red and gleeful with joy. He gave out a harsh and manic giggle.

Jade had kissed him for the first time a week prior. And had kept kissing him (and more) every day since. They were in love – they were _lovers_ – and Peony had no idea. Jade had kept it secret from him. And finally, _finally_ , Peony was the one left out of the loop, as Jade and Saphir built castle and monument to their love. Built a world of science and solitude all their own.

Peony’s eyes had been filled with misplaced pity, as Saphir giggled manically and waved him off with a white gloved hand. But less than a week later, Jade had made the first move to ban fomicry on living organisms. And Saphir had felt suddenly thrust into the cold. Shell shock. Because that world was never supposed to exclude Professor Nebilim.

And Saphir had considered many, many times since that this sudden shift in Jade was not only a product of misguidedness, but lovelessness. But maybe it was only now that he was putting it together. It was only the third or fourth time he had considered that Peony had not been trying to aimlessly sow seeds of doubt and discontent. Maybe Peony had known they were an item, and had been trying to warn Saphir.

As if forewarning heartbreak could prevent it.

“I miss her,” Peony says simply. He smiles as he places Rappig Luke gently on the ground. He turns in his chair, so his legs fall over the side of the armrest. “Nephry… Gelda… Jade and you. Those were the happiest times of my life.”

Peony’s an idiot, Dist thinks. What kind of fool admits to something like that so flippantly? And probably Dist has said as much too, in some manic fit of desperation – that he was happiest with the Professor and the others in his childhood. But Jade had been just as big of a bully then too, hadn’t he? And Peony too? And Dist feels a little ashamed that that’s the best it’s ever been.

Peony is twisting his finger in the air, making shapes. “Man, both of us are complete love-struck fools. The Balfour siblings really fucked us over, didn’t they?” he laughs.

Dist kind of doubts that Peony really gets to say that, when the worst Nephry did to him was half-heartedly move on. But the comradery feels good, and Dist feels himself break into a smile. “I guess so,” he clasps his hands together and hums.

Peony grins widely at him.

These meetings with Peony and his Rappigs every other night don’t really change anything, Dist knows. When it comes right down to it, Peony is Jade’s friend first. (No, Peony and Dist- Peony and Saphir were never friends to begin with.) If it ever really came down to one or the other, Peony would choose Jade over Dist every time. So would Nephry. And Anise. And Dist can’t even begrudge them for it. It’s the choice he would have made too.

“You really should think about where you’re going to go and what you’re going to do,” Peony says. “You shouldn’t stay here…” Peony claps his hands together excitedly. “You should write to Nephry?” he suggests, in a voice full of self-importance, reverence for his own genius.

It’s not the first time Peony has suggested this. And Dist could certainly do worse than returning to Ketterburg. Although he thinks he’d like to stay and make things difficult for Peony a least a little while longer.

Still, it’s the first time that Peony has asked this where Dist hasn’t been immediately seething and turning in on himself. The first time he feels relaxed enough to toss it back at Peony.

“Why?” Dist asks. The Rappigs are crowding around him, but he doesn’t feel like he minds. He smirks. “Why should I write to her? Just because _you_ can’t?”

“Yes, exactly.” Peony makes a face. He strokes his chin, and nods sagely. “I see you understand me.”

 


End file.
